


Warmth

by Typewriterblood



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cold Weather, Crime Scenes, Fluff, Fluff Bingo, Gloves, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing Clothes, Snow, fellas is it gay to think about your bro stripping in front of you?, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typewriterblood/pseuds/Typewriterblood
Summary: Will finds himself ill-prepared for snowfall at a crime scene. Hannibal arrives with hot chocolate and the obsessive need to care for Will.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 194
Collections: what am I supposed to write here





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy. First fic and it's suuuper slow. Be kind (rewind).

Snow was drifting in on fat, frigid clouds of thick white, threatening to smudge out the moon. Each flake’s tiny shadow flickered across the beams of flood lights illuminating the crime scene. Will clenched his fists tightly, inhaling deeply as he shut his eyes on the mangled bodies spread against the hardened ground. Shutter clicks and shuffling crunches of forensics maneuvering around blurred as the blood sank back into each victim’s skulls, turning their corpses from something like a horizontal macabre sainthood into your vertical, everyday passerby. The backs of their skulls unfolded back into their natural curve, no longer crushed in by the ball-peen hammer that had begun to feel warm in Will’s right hand—the wooden handle felt too familiar, and as he walked up on the man and woman laughing and talking, he felt his shoulder roll back and his wrist arc back before he swung desperately at the backs of their heads like cracking open soft-boiled eggs. With a shudder, his eyes sprung open. Returned to the aftermath, Will’s breath puffed fog into the space. He swallowed, throat dry, heart pounding.

“What did you see, Will?” Jack questioned.

“This wasn’t planned,” Will murmured, almost to himself. “The hammer...he keeps it with him, maybe in a pickup truck of some kind. He saw them laughing and felt...envy. He’s deeply unhappy. Impulsive. The man you’re looking for lives alone, and he—”

His psychoanalysis paused as his teeth began to rattle. Jack rolled his eyes and let loose a long exhale. He called out to the team for a break. The snow was rolling graciously down, now, and they couldn’t get much done if their fingers were frozen. He retreated to the van, passing Hannibal’s form and giving an agreeable nod his direction. Will felt him approaching before he could hear the stiff sounds of ice submitting beneath Dr. Lecter’s winter boots. Bitterly, Will shifted in his worn-down work boots, watching the leather crease into a frown.

“I thought you might want a pick-me-up.” Hannibal stated, extending a thermos. 

“I’m not really in the mood for anything, right now.” 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, his arm still extended with his gift. Will sighed, and took the thermos from him, unscrewing the cap. Immediately, the warmth of dark chocolate steamed into the breeze. Hannibal gave a faint smile at his victory, seeing the interest flood Will’s eyes.

“I wish I had planned as good as you for this weather,” Will managed, curling his hands around the cap and pouring the dark liquid in. He wasn’t even wearing gloves. Each finger moved tensely, ghost-white, joints coarsened by the temperatures. Without thinking, Hannibal started pulling his own gloves off, tugging at the fingertips as Will suffered down a swallow to protest what he knew was coming. 

“You are cold, Will. I’m more than dressed for this. I can handle a little bit of chill now and again, I assure you. This is hardly my first snowstorm, nor yours.”

Will let out a bark of laughter and leaned back into the hot cocoa. 

“It definitely _seems_ like this is my first. This is excellent, by the way. I’m guessing it’s not Swiss Miss?”

Hannibal’s eyes flicked up at him, and Will felt himself shrinking beneath his gaze. 

“No.”

He reached out for Will’s hands, fingers keeping the base of the gloves open for him to slip his fingers through. Like a child, Will accepted the assistance, shifting the thermos back and forth between hands as they filled Hannibal’s gloves. They were still warm. He wiggled his fingers and an agent snuck a glance at the two of them as they rushed by awkwardly. Will’s pulse picked up. He’d forgotten anyone else was still around. He thought instead of the bittersweet flavors coating the insides of his mouth, a tiny hint of chili powder surfacing in the mix.

“Will.”

Hannibal was looking at him, a question seeming to float in the blacks of his eyes. 

“I—I’m sorry, did you ask something?”

“I asked if you wanted my scarf, too.” He tugged at his neckline, revealing a thick woolen cut of deep red. Will shook his head, sipping at his cocoa. He kept his arms winged against his torso, pitifully hoping to ward off the cold.

“You’ve already done enough,” he began. “I can’t just stand out here having you undress.”

Again, Hannibal’s eyebrow twitched upward. He gave a small, close-lipped smile.

“Of course not, Will. It’s too cold for that.”

Will flushed and started to screw the thermos closed, giving him something, anything to focus on aside from the idea of his therapist stripping. 

“Here.”

Hannibal shuffled his arms out of his coat, swinging it over the both of them like a blanket. The temperature change was so instant, Will had little energy to reject this kindness; instead, he tightened a hand the buttons and clung it tighter to himself. He felt a purr of satisfaction against his shoulder, and kept still. He tried to focus his breathing, and stared off into the broken bodies freezing solid in front of him. The snow had let up, some, but the breeze kept spraying icy needles through his skin.

“It’s almost nice, isn’t it.” Hannibal finally spoke.

“Yeah,” Will said. The moon had finally broken through the clouds, bringing the murky treeline back into focus with its new coat of snow. The bodies looked like they were sleeping, beneath their own cold blanket. “It is.”

“Shall we head back to the car?”

Will nodded gently, his shoulder still pressing against Hannibal’s as they moved in unison through the paleness of night.


End file.
